So there’s all this crap. My whole life. All this crap. 46 years, 47 next week. Most of it my adult life. I mean, most of what bothers me is what I chose to do, or not do. The crap that happened to me as a kid I had little control over, or understanding of. It probably made me most of what I am today, but it happened to me, it was a movie, I didn’t do much. As an adult, though, I had a hand in all sorts of crap; big messes and mountains of waste. All of that bothers me. Some times more than others. This morning it was weighing on me and I thought about it for a while, prayed a little, mulled it. Seems I make certain resolutions over and over, but don’t act on them. Like, I’m going to write. Like, I’m going to take time for myself instead of always tending to others’ needs. Like, I’m finally going to get serious about finding out who I am.
Seems, though, I never do it. All this crap gets in the way. All the ragged details of living everyday life get caught up in the machinery of my dream engines and stick up the works. By evening time, I’m not inclined to do too much intellectual weight lifting. So today, this morning, I kind of make another resolution to take some time regularly to write, to read, to enlighten, or attempt to enlighten, my brain again. But by the time I get home from work, I’m shot and thinking supper, a shower, and some TV maybe, then crash to sleep. I’m thinking that and not much about the crap.
When I finally turn the TV on, there’s some show about Sam Shepard, the writer/playwright, on PBS. Some guy who has actually done something with his life. Some guy who has taken the crap and molded it into work, a work, something to build a life out of. This show is going on, and I’m watching it, and Sam Shepard seems to be a pretty good guy, honest and real. When the show is over the announcer says they’re going to show his play True West next. I decide to watch some mindless movie on TBS, something to nod off to.
Then I remember this morning. All the crap. I remember myself maybe and some promises I’ve made to me. I wonder if I can take all this crap and do something with it, or at least get it out of the way if that’s where it is, and get on with something. So here I am. Writing this. Here I am thinking there’s got to be something I can do with what’s left of me, something I can do with the hours I can sneak between the job, and AA meetings, and helping friends, something I can cram in for me, and you, and whoever else might be interested. Let’s find out. And cut the crap.